OWK.CZ Reviews
The Other World Kingdom Visit Reviews

Absolute Female Supremacy: A Video Tour - The Other World Kingdom (From The Spectator Magazine)

Review by Laurence Cloud

Who let the dogs out? Recently I retired, at 51. Actually, I was fired, but, regardless, the plan has been to sell everything and move somewhere cheap: Montana, Louisiana, the Gulf Coast—fuck the Bay Area. And then it struck me: OWK, why not emigrate to the Other World Kingdom!

The Other World Kingdom is really more cult than kingdom, a peculiar compound, constructed from the ruins of a Renaissance castle, located 130 kilometers north of Prague, Czechoslovakia. Ruled totally by women—a gynarchy—a matriarchal Disneyland. Set deep in Eastern Europe, where males live as slaves chained up in stables and cages—for Christ's sake, how expensive could that be?

And, as I continue along as obdurately submissive as ever, having no real interest in a third wife—not that again—with my kids now grown, why the hell not? It's all real, they insist, not a fiction. Think of the tax shelter! Thus, I faithfully purchased the 70-minute video, The Other World Kingdom I: A Tour of the Real Empire of Women, with Madam Catherine Swenson, for an in-depth lay of the land.

Yes, I'm well aware of their prominent Website. And, just as it is without doubt the world's best in femdom, this is one dang good video: A leisurely tour of the premises with Madam Catherine—they're quite proud of the place—the central courtyard, tall, arching halls and porticos, authentic medieval prison, stately throne room, and so on. But, rest assured, along the way there's plenty of demonstrative beatings, bootlicking, facesitting, dog training, and slave riding, directed by a crew of fine-looking madams who really lay it on—women who whip, slap, punch, and kick absolutely as hard as they can.

Where do you apply? Where's the consulate? Can you download a visa? Europe is so ahead of us in femdom. You've got that Lady Victoria/Cruella stuff in England, Danube Women Wrestling in Austria, OWK in Czechoslovakia. While here, in the land of Dr. Laura, we pervs are consigned to the same sad dungeon, in the same old S/M ghetto, as ever. America may lead the way in facesitting... but is facesitting really femdom; doesn't everyone enjoy a good, basic facesit? And the Japanese are way out front when it comes to scat, their women being so petite. Thank God for the world wide web.

You see, OWK sets femdom free, like a prehistoric bird. Disperses it as a variegated way of life in which slaves minister unto beautiful cold bitches in many different contexts: as convicts, laborers, dogs, pony boys, male maids, furniture, toilets—you name it. And does so indoors and out: boudoirs, baths, prisons, stables, restaurants, school rooms, swimming pools, gardens, fields, and streams. Where else do you see S/M stepping outside?—and in the winter, at that. I especially like the snow scenes of freezing laborers and their mink-clad guardesses.
The castle and its premises are indeed quite elegant, and the ladies dress accordingly: to the teeth, bedecked in black leather, or charming springtime hot pants, or stretchy riding outfits. Ever so indolent, capricious and mean: mean, mean, mean.

My favorite is Madam Christine. I don't know what exactly makes her a "madam"; she appears to be about 17, just a wispy, blond slip-of-a-thing, almost gaunt—unhealthy, in fact, were it not for that teen-queen disdain. That embodiment of cruelty—of emphatic girl butt (she's one angry ass, all right) famous on the 'net in white riding pants and jackboots, in charge of the convicts and pony boys. And what's really cool is the pistol she wears in a low slung holster across the hip, à la Little Joe Cartwright. She could take on all three of the Cartwrights: Her SS luger.
I'd like to suck it with her finger on the trigger.

You can't quite get the full sense of how mean these babes are from the Website, despite the 5,000 jpegs; on the video, though, you get to hear them, viciously berating their slaves in Czech—which sounds a lot like German—so exciting. Kafka wrote in German. And you see and hear how hard the girls actually beat their slaves' rears—how hard they swing, like José Canseco—the whoosh, the crack, the muffled cry. The frightened flinch: You can't capture that in a jpeg.

But it's different on the 'net—the 'net and porn tapes are apples and oranges. The 'net is a slow release, a controlled burn, while tapes are a quick fix. A porn tape is like a raw steak thrown to a watchdog. The 'net, though, with its jpeg thumbnail (like those to the left) is collaborative by nature. The viewer himself chooses the order and context of image, switching as he may among a variety of galleries of different femdom themes across multiple websites, thereby intentionally segmenting and regulating the speed of porn access. Engaged as such, the active, eager imagination controls the rise and release of semen. Imagination and desire working in tandem—you can't do that with a real girl, no matter how good she is. You can't switch among sexual realms with her, like on the 'net.

You bet: the internet is revolutionizing the very masturbatory process: Men now masturbate hunched over, sitting at the computer, gazing out the garden window. In the old days, in the shower, it was different—the shower was where a real man masturbated: of his own devices, standing on his own two feet. The cum was quickly, decisively, jacked along and driven out—by pure frustration. But today it's altogether different for us unsanitary weasels slumped dreamily at our computers: now, the semen kind of gathers, collects, rises, and falls—erection hardly necessary; in fact, counterproductive. While, historically, men have masturbated primarily from a reclined or supine position, from Roman times.

Where is the science on this? Is anyone still buying magazines?

In any event, I have no real critique of The Other World Kingdom I—it's swell... unlike most S/M tapes, one-dimensional American tapes, which totally suck. Although I do have a few questions of the kingdom itself. First, where is the love? The girls are certified man-haters, all right, so shouldn't we have some lesbian action? There's nothing quite as compelling as lesbo manhating. But the compound is devoid of lesbian commiseration—not so much a sisterly peck—almost eerily so. In fact, the kingdom overall seems a tad vapid: There's not a whole lot going on within this matriarchal "state." You can beat the crap out of a slave only for so long... after which the girls lie about, drinking "fine wine," bathing, receiving massages, playing billiards, sitting on faces. Madam Catherine herself describes them as totally "lazy, spoiled, and whimsical." There's a Founder's Day celebration every September, and a yearly pony boy race, but no real on-going projects, artistic endeavors, to speak of. But maybe that's the point. The intrinsic superiority of women: they don't have to do a fucking thing.

...although you'd think they'd turn just a tad lesbo out of sheer boredom—or to stop, in its tracks, the inference that fruition of male fantasy is the true underlying purpose of this state... and, indeed, what the girls are really pissed about.
Anyway, were I to check in, I'd like to be a male maid—although I'm way hairy. I'm one hairy, self-hating Jew. But I work out like crazy, and at 150 pounds I'm built like a fitness competitor. Senior Shemale Division. Without the hair I could wear a two-piece, easy. I think I'd make a terrific maid—after a good laser mowing. I'm basically a fem Lesbian, trapped in contempt.

And thus I don't want any part of that outdoor physical stuff, the endless compound improvements that, according to Madam Catherine, comprise the life of the slave laborer. Although all they ever seem to do, really, is pound rocks, dig ditches, split firewood, clear debris—like a weekend Caltrans detail. Indeed, neither the men nor the women appear to do anything of any real consequence in the Other World Kingdom; there are zero skills exhibited. How bizarre—for such a prosperous, bustling kingdom. But it's true that guys like us can't do a thing... and neither can the women who hate us. Although I've never purported otherwise.

But that's okay. What I'd really like to do is go over and set up a methamphetamine lab. In my prison cell. Meth is okay in Eastern Europe—it's pretty lawless—with lots of cab-driving chemists. Get those lazy OWK girls in gear—they'd love it—vengefully beating us insatiables straight on to hell.

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